


Wolf Hunt

by Kettugasm



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, anyway i wrote this about my own inquisitor, takes place after the game ends?, what would you tag that?, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kettugasm/pseuds/Kettugasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i wrote this after my shower this morning when i didn't really shower i just hotboxed my bathroom and was sad about Solas being a shithead. here's to Wolf Hunt DLC someday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf Hunt

Into the War Room did Inquisitor Lavellan charge, storming in as lightning crackled around her fingernails. Onto the grand table did her hands slam, fingertips leaving burning prints on the wood. Her three advisers were momentarily stunned; Cullen grew still, Josephine grew silent, and Leliana grew mostly confused until she saw Morrigan striding to the Inquisitor’s side.

"Inquisitor." came the surprisingly motherly tone, though the woman hadn’t intended it to sound as such. A hesitation, but then a gloved hand rested on the small Dalish woman’s shoulder, trying to calm the rightful fury. Morrigan was not a woman to deny justice, especially to a woman scorned who brought with her a righteous Hell, but this was not how she could leave things.

"There is something growing in me, and I cannot stand it!" she screamed with a voice too large for her stature, "I have never felt this before, and it burns inside me like a wildfire!" She shook as she spoke, her hands guided away by her arcane adviser when they began to burn too fiercely and the table became vulnerable to catching aflame. The fingerprints were clear, black little marks on the surface of the table. "This hate is consuming me! It hides in my throat at night so I can’t sleep and it bites at my back all day! I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it!!"

Through some form of unspoken magicks, and a few minutes of unbroken silence save for her heavy, laboured breathing, the Dalish woman was calmed, her rage buried it deep within the well of her heart. Her own Well of Sorrows. And it was the thought of the past, the thought of the voices still constantly buzzing about her head that made the woman who’d taken down Corypheus seem so frail, tears spilling from her eyes.

Cullen could only stare, his gentle eyes unable to watch the display for too long as he sought visual advice from the women around him, suddenly feeling very outnumbered. Josie looked on with dear concern, reaching a useless hand out. She’d had plenty experience, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to comfort a crying noble. Leliana, however, had gone to one of the windows, hands folded behind her back.

The soon-to-be-Divine gazed out at the scars where the self-proclaimed Elder One had torn up the earth in his attempt to destroy the world. She took in a deep breath, then released it slowly, turning over her shoulder to gaze back at the two mages.

Never had she trusted Morrigan, that was a fact. In all the years she’d known the woman, she’d never turned her back to the witch until today. She studied the sorceress with scorn, eyes cold as she gazed over her. Even during the Fight Blight, Morrigan had been more of an enemy than a friend, but even Leliana couldn’t deny something had changed in her.

It was as if, though older, Morrigan seemed…softer somehow. The apostate from the Kokari Wilds who had been all angles and insults now could smile, could blush, and had the most startling aura of compassion Leliana had only seen from a select few Chantry sisters years ago. It struck a chord within the Nightingale and touched the part of her heart that hadn’t been steeled.

But for the moment, Leliana would chuckle to herself. Morrigan: Lover of the Elves. Of course the witch would have taken such a liking to the Inquisitor, her Warden-Hero of a husband had been of the Circle certainly, but no doubt had Dalish ancestors at some point. He was a fine man, Leliana recalled, and even if he’d done such a despicable deed the night before the end of the Fight Blight, the eve of the fall of the Archdemon, Leliana could not deny the love the man had for his wife and his son. Even if she thought Kieran to be not all that right and truly a bit creepy.

Turning her mind away from trivialities, Leliana stepped forwards from the window, retrieving a small rolled up message from her person. It looked old but not too old. “When he… disappeared,” she began, knowing to avoid using the name that had caused this outburst, “I had my people scout wherever we could, but…This was the only report,” she said with a disappointed tone. “The trail’s gone cold for months.”

The Inquisitor knew the answer the moment she saw the parchment in her spymaster’s hand. Though it did not bring forth the great rage once more, it only bubbled up an overwhelming sorrow in her stomach and she would have collapsed to the floor if it not for Morrigan’s hold on her wrists. A series of deep breaths later, she regained her strength, slowly pushing herself out of Morrigan’s grip, steadied on her own. Looking down at the map laid out before her, Lavellan’s eyes scanned across the war pieces, the daggers, seeing the world below like a god surveying it. A breath hitched in her throat as she withdrew the dagger pinned on the spot she’d slain Corypheus, staring at it before staring back to her advisers one by one.

Her emerald eyes burned as they met Cullen’s, and he could see the determination in them that inspired a chivalrous spirit within him. He nodded as she spoke. “Cullen,” she called his name and he snapped to attention, “Ready the troops that we have left.”

Then she turned to Leliana, their eyes meeting for a brief second as she took the parchment, tucking it into her pocket. She would read it privately, Leliana knew this and would not press her to do otherwise. “Leliana,” she called to her spymaster and the woman nodded, “If you can, I ask one last task of you. Scouts, as many Elves as you have, I need them posted around every wolf statue we’ve encountered. Send their reports to me.”

And finally, she met Josie’s eyes and the petite human’s own widened as she readied her quill. “Josie,” which was met with a, “Yes, Inquisitor?” followed by, “I need you to hire the best wolf hunters you have access to. Gold is no option. But make sure they know where their loyalties lie,” she said sternly, before gazing back down at the dagger.

Morrigan had a scoured expression on her face, but she could not blame her Inquisitor for the path she’d set herself out on, knowing fully well there had been a Witch Hunt for her. Though thankful for her eventual husband’s chase, she recalled the sting she’d felt after her vow of “Do not search for me” had been broken. These circumstances, she figured, where similar but much different. Crossing her arms, she let out a soft, unimpressed laugh. “So there is to be a Wolf Hunt, I presume,” she said coyly, gazing sideways at the Dalish, expecting a smirk in return, but was only met with the view of the Inquisitor retreating from the War Room.

**Author's Note:**

> mala-suledin-nadas.tumblr.com


End file.
